The gypsygirl
by Lexxie-Lizzie
Summary: While Sam's away, the mice will play
1. Default Chapter

calloo callay, come run away, with cabbages and rings  
  
disclaimer: this was just what i do when my brain is going hyper  
  
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Frodo was cleaning out his cupboards, rearranging jars and generally tidying up. He was just about to do the washing when a knock was heard at the door. He disrobed of his apron and laid his gloves on the counter. But the knocking had stopped. He waited, and sure enough, there was more knocking. He proceeded toward the door with caution. It could be Pippin of course, asking round for a cup of sugar or four. He twisted the knob and revealed an empty space. Strange, he was sure there was someone knocking. He was about to close the door when he noticed a note on the doorstep.  
  
"Dear Frodo, meet me in the courtyard for a good time"  
  
"Courtyard? I don't have courtyard?" Frodo thought to himself. Frodo laid the note on a table and resumed his duty in cleaning the kitchen. Sam was meant to do this, but he had been dismissed for an outing with his old gaffer last week. Frodo loved having Sam around to cook and clean for him, but it was refreshing to have the house to himself.   
  
He was nearly done with the pots when he heard another knock at the door, this time punctuated with occassional metallic clicks as they met with the wooden door. Frodo decided not to delay this time, in case he were to miss the visitor. He opened the door with a little more enthusiasm than was probably needed.  
  
"Hello there"  
  
A girl was standing there. Obviously a girl, but somehow very old. She had olive skin and violet hair, intermitted with flecks of silver. She was girt for travel, and very elegantly so. It passed Frodo's mind that she was strangly elf-like, but everything about her was different. Frodo was standing there in stunned silence when she spoke to him.  
  
"Hello there. You did not meet me in the courtyard, why?"  
  
"I do not know of any courtyards where i could meet you"  
  
"Never heard of a courtyard? What sort of a world is this? I mean all the other civilisations had them, I could just leave this note anywhere and expect to have........sorry, you were saying?"  
  
Frodo was growing more confused by the minute  
  
"Don't mind me lad, just having a bit of jet-lag myself.."  
  
".......?"  
  
"Oh never mind. Say, do you happen to have any coffee in there? Bit of fermented mint cream? Perhaps?"  
  
"Oh, coffee, yes, mint, cream, come in and sit down"  
  
"Gladly obliged my lad"  
  
Frodo wondered why she insisted on calling him lad, but he supposed, she was tall, and seemed to be lost in the area. She was just a little confused, probably even more so than himself. Frodo toddled into the kitchen and set a pot on the stove. He potterred back into the lounge to find her leafing through some of his books.  
  
"So you're interested in reading?"  
  
"Oh, very much so. Did you write these books? Such an elegant hand!"  
  
"I've written most of these, but some are written by dear Bilbo"  
  
"Bilbo?"  
  
"Never mind, a relative of mine"  
  
"I can see where you get your talent from then"  
  
"So, who are you?"  
  
"Oh, how rude of me! Arkazel, Arkazel Cazsare. I'm a traveller of sorts. Some call me gypsy, some call me a witch, usually depending on which scarf I'm wearing at the time"  
  
"Scarf?"  
  
"Scarf, bandana, towel, handerchief, many names, but essentially the same thing. Here take one"  
  
With this, she produced a black, slightly transparent cloth, rich with flowing embroidery depicting roses and vines around the edge.  
  
"Thank you"  
  
"Gladly obliged"  
  
The cloth was slippery between his fingers, strangely oily but completely dry.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Silk"  
  
"What's it made of?"  
  
"Boiled worms"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Unbelievable, but true"  
  
Frodo tucked the cloth into a book and hurried over to the kitchen. He yelled over to the loungeroom:  
  
"What do you take?"  
  
"Coffee"  
  
Frodo already knew this, but was trying to acertain the manner in which she preferred it. He remembered the request for fermented mint cream. Luckily, he just so happened to have a flask of it nearby. He arranged all the ingredients onto a tray and carried them into the loungeroom. He placed the tray down onto the wooden table and looked up. Frodo stared in shock at what lay before him...  
  
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please dont hate me  
  
anyway, willl be continued  
  
ive only just started up writing fics again  
  
review NOW 


	2. What a strange girl

Disclaimer: funnily enough, i own none of these charcters!  
  
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Frodo was indeed shocked, for in the centre of the room stood Arkazel, Sting cradled in her arms. This would not have been so unusual. Many hobbit children were caught looking at it. It WAS beautiful. What caught Frodo's eye was that the sword seemed to glow in her hands. Not a blueish hue, as was usually the case, but orange. Frodo was quite shocked to behold this. Orange?  
  
"Oh hello Frodo. Is the coffee ready?"  
  
"........"  
  
"Well, put it on the table, don't just stand there staring"  
  
"..........."  
  
"Haven't you ever seen a sword before? I would have thought you'd be quite aquainted with this one at least, I mean, it was in your house"  
  
".........but, orange?"  
  
"Orange? Oh, orange. Yes, what's so strange about that?"  
  
"It's supposed to be blue"  
  
"Blue, what an ugly colour! Come let's have coffee"  
  
"....but?..."  
  
"But me no buts and pour the coffee dearie"  
  
".............."  
  
"Well if you're so helpless, I'll pour the coffee"  
  
"..............mmm, thanks?......."  
  
"S'alright. Oh my old bones are acting up again, mind if I stretch a little?"  
  
Old bones? She was naught older sixteen at the most!  
  
"Stretch all you like"  
  
Stretching is a common act, practiced by many people on the face of the earth. But this was no ordinary person. You hadn't seen anything until you'd seen Arkazel stretching. The act of stretching would not have been so unusual, had it not been for the gusts of wind sweeping through the room at each extension of her limbs. She noticed Frodo's shock and attempted to hide whatever she was doing.  
  
A gust fillled the room as she pulled back her shoulder-blades. She moved her arms strangely, swinging them, as if she were pulling at something. Every time she brought her arms forward, a wave of pressure swept over Frodo. A faint outline could be seen when they passed over the shafts of sunlight. Faint feathered patterns glistening through the air. She relaxed her arms and her shoulders shifted as if tucking something back into her back. Somehow having difficulty with the unseen.   
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Wings"  
  
"Wings?"  
  
"Well, Phantom Wings"  
  
"Which are?"  
  
"Strange you should ask that....."  
  
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yes, Frodo is shocked easily  
  
to be continued, REVIEW 


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